Ten-thirtyish this morning, at the Boy Scout pancake breakfast, sitting at a table in the church social hall, nursing my fourth or fifth cup of coffee and catching up with a friend, the mother of many, including a young adult with a severe but undefined developmental disability which renders her a perpetual two-year-old.
Says my friend: "For years the doctors ran tests. I said, You find out what's wrong with her, and we'll name the syndrome after you. I thought she was broken.
"Then I realized: I'm broken. And she's here to help me."
Anyway, I don't know whether any of you out there were looking for some quotation to give, like, focus and meaning and stuff to your life, but if you were, might I suggest that you've just found it?
Or, to put it another way, do I know why I got up and drove four miles to eat pancakes this morning?
Yes, I believe I do.
P.S. Oh, and. There's got to be something to the fact that this conversation transpired on the Feast of Saint Joseph. We know what the Holy Family looks like, but a holy family? My money is on any family that bears its heartbreaks as if they were -- because they are -- blessings.
5 comments:
Grace comes around and bounces off things you didn't know were there.
No kidding. At least, that's my secondhand perception, and what I think this friend is in my life to remind me.
Nursing four or five cups of coffee, now that's got to be a challenge Sally!
I hear ya! What do you mean undefined developmental disability is no laughing matter Victor?
Just passing by to say hello and God Bless you and your friends during this Lent season.
Well, not all at once. I sat there for a long, long time, getting up only to refill my coffee cup. These pancake breakfasts are good for extended conversation.
Blessings to you, too.
St. Joseph always leaves me breathless; how quietly he points me in exactly the direction I need to look to see what God is trying to show me. Thanks, as always.
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